Know Thyself
by The Itchy Bird
Summary: After the pedestal sucks the life out of him, Desmond Miles awakens in a realm both far and close to the one he was in before. Questioning the events of his life, he meets five people who talk some clarity into him. Before he finds true understanding of his worth. (Post AC 3, slightly in line with AC 4)
1. The Choice

**_"ENOUGH!"_**

He'd heard all he needed to hear. And he knew what to do...

**_"You must not do this."_**

If he didn't act now, all their hard work would've been fruitless...

**_"Whatever Juno's planning - however horrible it might be today - we'll find a way to stop it. But the alternative, what you want - there's no hope in it!"_**

**_"If you free her - you'll be destroyed."_**

Many would suffer... He wouldn't let that be...

**_"It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain."_**

**_"You mustn't!_**

Otherwise, the alternative would be too cruel...

**_"It's done, Minerva. The decision's made."_**

He had faith in humanity. They can fight back. Will fight back...

**_"Then the consequences of this mistake are yours to live - and die - with."_**

She faded out of view. Only the four - scratch that, five - of us remained...

**_"You need to go. All of you. Get as far away from here as you can."_**

**_"Come with us. We'll find a another way."_**

He dismissed it. Without hesitation...

**_"There isn't time."_**

**_"Son..."_**

That tone both comforted and hurt me. But it was too late...

**_"You know it's true. It's already started. I need to do this now. So go! GO!"_**

Waited until they all fled the area, then he faced the pedestal.

Palms open, arms stretched out. Then, the sphere in his grasp.

A moment of seizure and drainage. It blinded his senses until...

Blankness enveloped his being.

He was gone.

* * *

**Author's**** note**: Hey, all! How comes the reading? If you've clicked this, then I hope the rest of this fanfic will please you.

Anywho, while I'm writing "Dia-Up Assassin", this little piece came into mind. Again, originally for amusement, this one also got a little more of my creativity than I first lent the idea with. So, to quickly explain:The prologue if just my made-up point-of-view narration of the last scene from Assassin's Creed III, where Desmond Miles chose to save the world while relunctantly setting Juno free. The rest of the story is besically...in a sense, the afterlife (?)

If you've read Mitch Albom's "The Five People You Meet In Heaven", then I hope this will be clear enough.

So, hopefully, I can give little bits of updates on this while also doing my other work (and art.) I WILL make a cover for this, though. Just wait.

Reviews and suggestions are welcome! O u O)/


	2. Reading Stories

**The Library**

When he came to, the first thing that came to his mind was a realization of misplacement. He didn't feel any after shock of pain, though earlier he had felt like the life was being sucked out of him. And really, that was exactly what had happened. To think he had believed Juno when she said there wasn't going to be any pain, really. But why was he lacking any conflicted feeling? No anger, regret, sadness, anxiety, or grief. Or rather... what _did_ he feel?

Oddly, he felt calm. Elevated. And most surreal of all, blissful.

With astonishingly little confusion, Desmond got up. And for the first time in a long while didn't feel any back pain like he had whenever he was laid down on the Animus for certain amounts of time. Quickly, too. His entire body felt inhumanly nible, even more than the Animus' programmed training had allowed him to feel. His manner of thinking less stressed and more content. But he was curious as to what was going on, so the young man took notice of his surroundings.

From the bookshelves that instantly greeted his bearings, he summed up that he was in a library. A very ... _unique_ library.

Unlike most libraries (well, the few he had visited both in real life and during his Animus sessions), this one was not only massive. No matter what direction he looked, he couldn't find any back wall nor did it seem to have a ceiling, but it didn't look or feel like he was outside. The place was well-lit, but not lit by sunlight. But it did feel welcoming, inviting him to have a look around and borrow a book or two.

His eyes then went to the bookshelves. Hundreds upon hundreds of bookshelves all around the place. And as he walked about the aisles, it looked like they were lined up to create interesections, like the streets of a city. Lined up, but not stacked close to each other, giving enough space to allow passage through every collection of shelves, like an extra room. Perhaps they represented the different uses of those books, like the Dewey Decimal System. And in those bookshelves were books filling up every space, no one book looking like the other. One book was really a scroll, another looked like it held old parchment than paper and, to his surpise, there were even electronic tablets in the bunch!

"What the _heck_ is this place?", the first thing that came out of his mouth since waking up: a question. It slurred, but a question still. And as if on cue, he stopped as something came into view from the corner of his eye.

A figure appeared on the left aisle of the interesection, facing a bookshelf a few feet meters from where Desmond was. Surprise painted his face at seeing another person in the seemingly sparse library. He couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman, for the person was wearing a kind of scholar's robe, the white glistening fabric reaching just above the ankles and the hood doming over the head. And the height and built was just about young adult in size. The person was enjoying one of the books - it looked like a paperback, the size of a Stephen King novel -, but then immediately putting back the book to reach for an old leather-bound one.

The young man couldn't make up his mind on whether to go up to the figure and ask questions or to stay clear of him or her, not exactly thinking of the person as a threat, but because he didn't want to disturb them from their book-skimming. He was getting more compelled to do the former, though. Slowly, he walked towards the person. Just as he was only a meter away...

"Ah. You finally found me, then."

Desmond froze. The voice was male, the accent faguely familiar. And judging from the tone, the man was expecting him. But it was only when the other turned around that he he was close to an answer.

The man gingerly pulled back the hood, revealing a cropped haircut and a well-defined jawline. His face underneath the hood was young but tired, semetic but not exotic-looking, with eyes that penetrated Desmond's soul with fond knowledge and appreciation.

Why did they have that penetration?

It took a moment for him to speak up. "Wait. How did you know I was ... Do I know you?", he replaced the first question he wanted to ask with another.

The expression the other man held was between amusement and sighing. Shaking his head, walking towards Desmond. His height was only slightly below his, but up close he could have a better look at the man's face. The other then said with some humour, "Really? After all your time playing time traveller in the Animus, you don't immediately recognize me?"

"W-wait." Desmond stammered out after getting over the slight shock. "How did you know about the Animus?" He demanded, but not with the usual anger he had before. The want to know was still there, as his volume spoke urgently. "Just...who are you?"

The quiet that came afterwards was unnerving. He felt like he had just disturbed the aura of the place with his brash inquiry. The other man, on the other hand, only stood still, like he was waiting for something. Then, with a snap of his fingers and an 'I got it!', he grabbed Desmond's left hand and placed the fingers near the top lip.

"W-W-What the-!"

Taken aback, Desmond tried to pull his hand back, but the stranger had a firm grasp on it, keeping it align his mouth, then spoke. "Just trace your finger from here and down." And firmer, he looked at the confused man's eyes and said, "Trust me."

The look he gave Desmond was authorizing, but much like that of a father. Trust...

Relunctantly, he moved an index finger over the lips until it settled at the bottom near the chin. The minute he removed the finger, though, a shining line started glowing from where his finger had roamed. When the light had diminished, the other man let go of his hand, took a step back and smiled. "Now, try to remember."

That one little line started it all. Because it wasn't a line. It was a scar. A blade scar, one he himself had and it all came back to him.

His first Animus sessions. The feel of the Levatine sun. The clashing of swords and hidden blades. The Assassin beaurue. The library that was no longer filled with books. And the old man, sitting on the chair with the Apple of Eden in his hand, waiting for death, his final work done.

Recognition finally showing itself, the other man's smile gleamed even more as Desmond uttered the name with such reassurance.

"Altair.

* * *

_**Interlude**_

_ The van was moving at a fast enough speed that they weren't skidging about the forest uncontrollably while driving away from the Temple. The solar flare was going to happen any minute now and they had to cover as much distance as the van would suffice them with._

_ Shaun's iron grip on the steering wheel was whitneing his knuckles. Bloody hell, why? Why did this have to happen like it did?_

Yes_, they had succeeded in solving the mystery of Those Who Came Before, that they were able to complete everything in time for the Temple to manipulate the impact of the flare to prevent an apocalypse. But at a price that they almost couldn't comprehend. And now, they were only three, running away because Desmond insisted upon it while he offered himself like a patient lamb for the slaughterhouse to Juno's twisted intentions._

_ Bollocks, the whole mess of it._

_ "The energy signal is getting more unstable!" He heard Rebecca exclaim frantically. From the corner of his eye, he could see that she was reading the current seismic frequency of the Earth. "I'm not sure just how far we need to be to avoid the impact-"_

_ A sudden curve on the road forced him to make a hard left, causing Rebecca and William to bump hard onto the van's side. As they recovered, he gave a hurried apology as he steadied the vehicle into a straight path once again._

_ William then grabbed both of the seats to sit up. "We can calculate the frequencies later. Right now, we have to keep our distance. There's no telling on the amount of aftershocks we'll be experiencing when it happens."_

_ Nodding, the Englishman went back to my driving, but the current scenery that welcomed us made me say, "Which I believe is sooner than we think." He indicated to the front view, then went to park the car near a clearing and hit the breaks. His attention went back to the others, who were just as mesmerized as he was by what was infront of them._

_ Green lights, emitting from beneath the ground and within the atmosphere. What was once dark nighttime was now plundged into a veridian radiance, the entire scene a close-up of the Northern lights right where they were parked. It was the most captivating display of energy they had witnessed since Desmond (as Ezio Auditore) had found the Grand Temple in the Vatican._

_ "It works...", was all he could say. No witty comment of any sort about how Juno was actually true to her word: that the purpose of the Temple are functioning and Desmond's sacrifice wasn't wasted. For a minute, they all felt like a storm was almost through its passing._

_ But any form of celebration or condolence were shoved out the door as a sudden rumbling came. The van started rattling with the earth's shaking, the movements sensed even through the upholstry of the driver's seat. It must've been the result of the Temple working against the diabolic fury of the solar flare. It was causing the earth's seismic pattern to go haywire and more the anything, the aftershock is te fiercest at where they are, being closer to the Temple._

_ As he looked up, William's expression was almost wild, but he had enough instict to hold him and Rebecca by the shoulders and force them to bend over. "Everyone, brace yourselves!"_

_ It might have only been a moment or perhaps several minutes. They couldn't tell as the van shook but miraculously didn't topple over. As they sat there, trying to keep their bearings as the world's spasm continued, very little thought processed through Shaun's mind._

_ But this was better than being roasted. That much he gave thought for._

* * *

**Meeting The First**

He couldn't believe it. Didn't know if he wanted to or should. Maybe this was all in his head, like when the others had plugged him into the Animus. But something was tugging deep inside to tell him that this was all happening, whether or not it was all inside his head. He felt so confirmed by that somehow.

The man whom he identified as Altair ibn La'Ahad took his realization in with an air of satisfaction. "Come." He let go of Desmond's hand and made to turn and walk along the aisle, indicating for him to follow. "Walk with me."

He obeyed and they made their way alongside the bookshelves. They kept going about, turning at every intersection they met and occasionally, Altair took a book or two from the shelves and carried them while leading Desmond.

After a few more paces, the latter's curiousity urged him to ask, "So... this library. It's huge." Huge didn't even begin to describe it. It was endless. "Is this like your library back in Maysaf?" It had only occured to it now, but he had remembered the stack of empty bookshelves, which were a disturbing difference actually to the abundancy of reading material the library they currently were in was.

Altair nodded at the statement. "Yes. This is a special place, and not just for me. And just like that library, this one is filled with invaluable knowledge." He was quickly skimming through one recently worn book before closing it and offering it to the American. "Go on. Have a look for yourself."

With surprisingly minimal hesitation, Desmond took the book. He and Altair had to stop their walk so he could get a good read from the item. First glancing at the expectant once-Master Assassin. "Alright.", he said flatly before opening the book.

A wave of exhilaration washed over him. As if on a synchonized fast forward mode, he was witnessing in his head all sorts of scenarios from point of view of a person he has never seen before, but oddly felt accostumed to. First was the birthing of the man, then the awkward coming of years, the marriage that would soon be withered by his recruitment. And lastly, the face of his enemy as they battled to the death, not realizing the bomb that would go off soon to innitiate their deaths.

It wasn't shown in that order but he was overwhelmed by all this information being transported into his mind, as clear as if he was there. But it was too much. Too detailed and close to home even though it he didn't want it to be. With a great amount of effort, he quickly closed the book.

He expected to be mentally exhausted or scarred by that experience, but only felt reflective. After clearing his mind for a moment, he turned questioningly at Altair. "What...what did I just saw...in this book?" The shock was still present, if his voice was any indicator to it. immediately he gave the book back to Altair, who only hummed in thought at his mental russ.

The other man took back the book and put it on the same shelf he had pulled it out from before turning back to Desmond and spoke, "The man who's life you had witnessed is a young soldier recruited to fight in the Vietnamese War. These books,", he raised what looked like an electronic tablet as a bizzare example, "all tell the stories of those who had ever lived for any amount of time in the material world. And like any reader interested in stories, I come back here many times to try to understand the enigmatic occurance called living." He paused to start walking again, urging Desmond to follow. "And that is why you were first dropped off here."

He followed again once more, intrigued by what the other man was saying, however fague it seemed. Thinking about his next question, he then carefilly said, "'First dropped off'? You mean this isn't my last destination?"

"No, it will not be your last." Altair dictated knowingly. "There is no limitation when it comes to figuring out one's self. Which is what I'm going to be helping you with."

That threw Desmond off. "Help me figure out _what_?"

A robed arm shot up to tenderly hold onto his shoulder, squeezing comfortly as Altair spoke again. "Figure out why your life was what it was."

* * *

**Author's note:** Phew! Finally got to doing a chapter for this! Since I've finished one chapter for Dial-Up Assassin ahead of time, I decided to quickly (relative to how long my chapters usually are) finish chapter 1 for this.

Also, I've made this to indicated the events after AC 3 and during the modern events in AC 4 (but nothing too invovled with AC 4, since I neither want to give away too much for everyone nor spoil myself.), so the In. As for where Desmond is, it's kind of an astral reality to that of the material (living) reality, which intersect each other, but the atral reality has no chronological bounds and is sujected to the preference of the soul and not the carnage intentions of the physical body (I really hope I can sum that up in later chapters, but oh well.)

**Next update:** Febuary 16-22 (I want to give myself lots of time while complete chapter 4 of Dial-Up Assassin and putting together the events of the next chapters to this one. Also, because reading during the weekends is nice, so yes. Scheduled there. XDD)

Review and suggestions are welcome! Bye!

~Itchy


	3. Rebuilding Confidence

**Acceptance and Renewal**

"What my life was…what?"

The statement given by the Levatine assassin confused him intensely. He had to let it sink in before noticing that Altair had gone over to another bookshelf nearby, getting more books or putting them back when he deemed them unnecessary. Face still twisted in figuring out what he meant, Desmond made his way towards him. He then turned to one of the shelves and tried to reach for a book, but he was hesitant, recalling the amount of emotions and information that surged furiously into his being after opening just one of those thing. Recoiling back his hand, he turned to back to his ancestor.

With a less confused tone -he hoped-, he asked, finally speaking the question with the right dictation, "I still don't understand. What did you _mean_ when you said you're gonna help me figure out why my life was what it was?"

After a moment, the other man finally stopped his browsing and turned his attention back to him. As a reply, he gave Desmond such a look of empathy. Or rather, it was between empathy and what Desmond took as concern. When he did speak, Altair's voice was once again reassuring. "I know you have had a lifetime of trying to figure things out yourself, if not with the help of your team, Desmond. But now that you're here, you can finally answer the questions yourself." With some amusement, he added, "You may have relived my life for a few days, but now it is my turn to relate to your story."

He placed his hand on one of the books he had collected. It appeared to be a square disk, like the one Lucy took from Abstergo all those months ago. "Here. You don't have to hold it. Just give it your attention."

And Desmond did. Actually, he had a lingering feeling inside calling to him even before Altair lifted the disk up. Immediately, he knew what it was.

"That thing has _my_ memories…doesn't it?" his voice was so calm, like he didn't even feel surprised at the realization. "Like we had with yours and Ezio's and Connor's. Oh, wait." He paused and tried to clarify. "You probably don't know them. Or rather, you might have expected Ezio, but Connor—"

A hand shot up to halt him from speaking more. With a nod, Altair said firmly, "No need to explain. As this library has revealed, they are, like me, ancestors of yours whose lives have helped you solve the problem with your would-be apocalypse. And, thanks to your sacrifice…" He stopped for awhile before giving the other man a sad smile. "I'm only sorry that you had to witness all of our tragic memories while ignoring your own agendas."

Desmond suddenly felt ashamed and lowered his head, though the place he was in made it seem less than he would feel in the material world. When he raised it again, his voice sounded remorse. "No, don't apologize. You all chose to give away your own freedom to protect everyone else's. I'm just ashamed I didn't choose to do the same until much later in my life."

"Ah, yes." The other man patted him on the shoulder again, his left hand still missing his ring finger. "Like me, you were also birthed into the Brotherhood, though both of your parents have outlived you." He sounded like that twisted bit of irony was more peculiarly amusing than devastatingly horrid.

His next reply was far more serious. "But again, unlike me, you didn't fully embrace your heritage. Don't think it shameful, Desmond. At least you had yearned for more than hidden blades and conspiracies. Unlike me… who had followed blindly until my disgrace." His hand squeezed abit, but it didn't seem like Altair showed much emotion from his recall. "You had the right idea, but not the right direction."

As the man let go of his shoulder, Desmond didn't know what to feel about that statement. True, he was fed up with the training facility that was once his home, but with the way he led his life after running away and before Abstergo had captured him, it was a very…mundane existence. Reluctantly, he replied, "I'll admit. Being a lowly bartender was a shitty way to pass the times, but I did enjoy whatever freedom I didn't have before and after that. But then I realized…"

He stopped. There was no need to extend his sentence any further. Altair knew it all as is, so he didn't have to. Blinking a little, he squinted his eyes. Was there something…._different_ about the man at the moment?

The other man's smiled, once sympathetic, now turning into pride. "That in the end, it had to be you, even when it could've been another person. In the end, you chose to return." Altair continued for him. And he was right. He had _chosen_ to go back to the Assassins, not because it was urgent for him, but because he, despite all of his complains, _wanted_ to make a difference. And in the short time he had, he made the biggest difference in the entire history of the Assassins.

For some reason, their conversation has made him feel… fulfilled. Maybe he _had_ figured something out while he was in the library, even if there were still questions about the in-between events, this part of him in-general had a closure.

Another blink and he finally realized what Altair was doing.

He was aging.

The once-simple white robes soon became more elaborate, the hems and stitches coming into detail until slowly, they had become his Mentor robes and the hood finally gaining that infamous beak. The robes he had last seen the man in the Animus. And his features, too, have changed. Graying hair and beard, scars fading, wrinkles highlighted but in the right places. He was once again the Grand Master he died as. And with one last chuckle, Altair ibn-La'Ahad handed him the disk. "Here."

Desmond eyed the disk with curiosity. He didn't need to ask what else it contained, but why was it given to him?

As if expecting the inquiry, the now-older Assassin answered. "Keep it. It is yours, after all. Besides, you can return it here after you finish your journey."

"You mean I can come back here?" He didn't want to sound hopeful, but the library still made him curious and he suddenly felt like Altair was biding him farewell, or more of a "see you later".

The library suddenly felt brighter and warmer than it had when he first came. Then, at his left, the bookshelves stacked there started moving or morphing on their own. When they had paused, Desmond found himself facing a portal. Or light beam. He couldn't surely say what it was, but it was beckoning to him, tugging at his mind to take a step inside or through it.

He turned back to Altair, the man's newest expression confirming what he had guessed. "Will you look at that?" His tone was so fatherly. All of a sudden, he didn't want to leave him, didn't want to leave this library. But at the same time, he knew he had to.

"I…have to go, don't I?" Almost apologetically, he mused to the Mentor and turning from him to the portal.

A sigh went out the other man as he nodded at his question. "Best to not keep the Second waiting, Miles. You still have other things to figure out. And yes, you can come back and visit us—"

"'_Us'_?"

"Yes, _us_." Altair smirked at him with much merriment. "Do you think I'm the only one who likes reading stories?" And with a head bob, he motioned behind him.

As he turned his head, brows were raised as indeed, there were other people with them, though he didn't even notice their presence before. There was another person, a man, behind a desk that wasn't supposed to be there. And in front of that desk, a woman, also robbed, but more colorfully, stacking books in front of the desk, probably checking it out. It might have been the more cheerful and calm expressions both people wore, but he had a problem placing their names. Several others were also found around the library, as if they were already there when he first woke up.

A heartfelt laugh emitted from the other man as Desmond turned back his attention to him. Still shocked, he murmured, "Are those two…"

"Yes, they are. " Altair confirmed, still laughing. So Maria and Malik were also with him... And he may have seen Abbas and one of Altair's kids somewhere on a table. Who else?

He didn't have time to think of it as Altair started pushing him towards the portal. "Go on. We'll discuss this part of the astral world later. The Second awaits your arrival."

"Who is this Second…?"

He didn't finish his exclamation as his right foot made contact with the light beam. Then the entire energy formation built itself around him and, while he was still holding the disk, it consumed him.

* * *

_It may have been only a few minutes, but the energy field definitely had a mass effect on the surroundings. Some of the trees in the forest were overturned –luckily, none had fallen on or near the van—, bits of the earth were crumbling over the nearby cliff and whatever amount of wildlife lived in these parts of the woods was enduring a panic frenzy all around. As for the van, well, it could have fared worse._

_They just sat there, still getting the aftershock out of their physiology. William was still making them bow, paranoid about any more of those ruptures that might emit after the event. Shaun could feel the grip of the older man's fingers on the tugged fabric of his vest. Hands still on the stirring wheel and head on his lap, he turned his gaze to Crane._

_The light of her tablet was illuminating her aggravated expression. Eyes open wide, staring at nothing but the fabric of her pants and mouth in a hard line, he could sense her anticipation. Then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned her eyes to him. Suddenly, her features softened, as if the presence of another worried face was enough to give her comfort from the situation. There she was. The Rebecca he knew to still be the optimist after all this time has returned. _

_The amount of struggle he emitted to not smile at the thought was annoying._

_He could feel William's clutch on his vest loosen until he let go of either of them. Sighing, Shaun let go of the wheel as he straightened himself up, trying to loosen the gears in this body after bowing into such a tiring position._

_Then, with his usual tact, he broke the silence. "Well. Next to waiting to be rescued from Abstergo's facilities, that little rumble had to be the longest set of minutes in my life." A snort was heard from Crane and he only rolled his eyes._

_The raven-haired woman finally went back to her tablet, brows creasing as she checked the readings and reported, "It looks like the frequencies are calming down. Guess it's safe to say that the Earth is currently stabilizing itself." And with loud sigh, she stretched up her upper limbs before slouching on the back of her seat. "Apocalypse averted…wooh!"_

_He couldn't help but snort at her sudden burst of energy. "Rather cheery after surviving our first cataclysmic disaster, aren't you?"_

_But despite his sarcastic reply, he had to agree. They had avoided having the world enter the sun's second dose of fury since the first one destroyed most life on Earth a million or so years ago. Or was it only a few ten thousands? Despite all of his digging, Shaun still couldn't pinpoint an exact era that Those Who Came Before were last known before completely becoming extinct._

_A grunt got him out of his academic thinking. He turned to where it had come from and found that the older of the Miles was still bowing his head. From the sound of his restricted breathing, it seemed that William… _

…_was sobbing. _

_Or was trying to prevent himself from emitting that he was sobbing. The first drips of tears fell off the man's hairy chin, dropping on the metal floor of the van as he stared at the little puddle absentmindedly. His shoulders were shuddering as he tried futilely to stop his emotions from showing too much. Then, when he spoke, William's voice was hoarse and desperate. "I still think we could've found another way…"_

"_Sir…" was all Hastings could reply with as he watched the older man slowly break down. As he snatched a look at Rebecca, it appeared that they both had the same worried looks. But neither could come up with any words to comfort the man, for they too had feelings of regret. They all wanted to save Desmond. Find another way to rebuke the solar flare and Juno's loophole. But at his insistence, they had fled. The guilt and devastation was still clinging to their chests._

_A heave came from the woman as she tried to cover her own sobs with her gloved hand. He himself merely shook his head, wanting to cry with them, but they needed a firm thinker in this time of grieving despite the anguish inside. With a hard look, he took off his glassed and folded them on his shirt, then closed his eyes as either hands went up to hold onto both Rebecca's and William's shoulders, rubbing gently in an attempt to comfort._

_And then, too weak from the happenings, he finally allowed his own watery eyes release._

* * *

**The Plaza**

Alright, where was he _this _time?

It didn't seem necessary in such a realm, but he had kept his eyes shut as he phased through the portal. Wherever he was at the moment, the feeling of the beam grew less. It still lingered in his body, but he surely felt that he was at another place from the Library. He took a risk and cracked open his eyes.

Perhaps he should not have been _that_ taken aback, but he was. Desmond found himself facing a tall structure, experience making him deem it as a church tower. Eyes shooting upward, he immediately recognized it as the tower he had climbed as he relived Ezio Auditore de Firenze's youth.

Now, if that wasn't enough of a clue to who "the Second" was, then fuck it.

Curiosity beating him, he tore off his gaze and turned about to face the rest of the area. As he observed, it was a square community area. Same limestone (It was limestone, wasn't it?) pavement. Mediterranean shrubbery and trees peaking out every now and then. A few carts filled with leaves or hay loitered around. Lanterns hung around lighting the city with warm glows. Everything was as it was when he first saw it all in Ezio's Memory.

Well, except for one thing: the area lacked the busy and chatty bustle of the Florentine citizens.

It was between peaceful and eerie, but like the Library at first, not a soul aside from him could be witness from his current panoramic view. Weirdly, though, he felt that he wasn't alone.

Maybe it was the energy still inside him from going through the beam. Gently, he raised the disk that Altair had given him. How much of his life was recorded in this small piece of data he wasn't sure, but now he had to figure out his life. Or, at least, understand it more. He was about to pocket the thing when it started glowing. Eyes wide in surprised, he watched as the whole disk was basked in light until, like the portal, it disappeared.

"What. The. F—"

He shut up at the last word. That's it. He had had _enough_ magical do-hickeys happening to him as is.

Scruffily, he marched about the plaza –Oh, look. He figured out the Italian word this time.— and scanned the area for whatever being was poking at him with the aura, going 'Look! I am here! You aren't alone, fine traveler!'

"Are you looking for something, young man?"

His senses became keen and alert. As he was about to check the empty stalls near the other entrance, a gruff but accentually charming voice beckoned to him. Collecting himself, he turned to the direction of the voice.

There was another man in the vicinity. He was seated on a bench at his left that was erected between two canopy trees. And as he neared the spot, Desmond would have found the man familiar, but was fooled slightly by his attire.

The aged man sitting on the bench with a basket of burgundy grapes on his lap was indeed Ezio, but he looked much older than his last memory of the Italian. His scars were far lighter than before and his hair was merely cropped down instead of pulled back. And the clothes he was wearing were far too peasant-like than the flamboyant and armored Assassin robes he donned during the Animus sessions.

But the way the man smiled at him was profoundly Auditore, no doubt about it. Bracing himself, he made his way towards the aged Italian and spoke up.

"I'm looking for a _someone_, not a _something_. And that someone is you… Ezio Auditore."

When he finally stood in front of him, the older man looked up and, with a quirked smile, nodded and scuttled in his seat, offering him a space right next to him.

Desmond couldn't help but cough out sheepishly. "Umm… Thank you." He took the seat and tried his best not to look too shabby while doing it.

Wait. He was trying to say "Grazie". How did it end up with an English translation?

As if sensing his confusion, Ezio chuckled and offered him some of his grapes and said, "You're in the afterlife now, young man. Language barriers do not exist here. Now, take one."

After blinking a few times, Desmond started talking again. "Oh. Sorry. I'm still new to this "astral plains" thing. Altair said we could talk about it later… Or, will YOU be the one explain it further to me?" Talking about the other ancestor of his to Ezio felt unbelievably natural, like they were just talking about their other neighbor across the street. Except, well, they were centuries apart in the world of the living. Maybe death had broken those boundaries.

He took one of the grape and popped it into his mouth then started chewing. Perhaps being in the afterlife, he didn't expect it, but that grape was very juicy and sweet, like a small ball of instant wine. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ezio's pleased expression at his tasting of the grape before speaking with his usual bravado.

"Good, are they not? Their tastes," He indicated to the basket. "are based on the last vineyards I had tended before my death. And let me tell you." Another grape went into his mouth and amusingly continued. "This place had copied the _exact_ taste, if not better."

Desmond earnestly nodded in agreement. As he swallowed, he tried to think up how to continue with this "Figuring stuff out" adventure he had just entered.

"So…", he began. "_You're_ gonna help me with figuring out the events of my life, right?" He indicated that he wanted another grape and took one after Ezio allowed it before continuing. "You are…The Second?"

The older man looked at him with a sideway glance. Then, with a renaissance feel, he smirked. Oh, the all-too-famous Ezio smirk. His head then turned so he could look straight into the American's eyes.

"If I weren't The Second, boy, then we wouldn't be eating my world-renowned grapes, now would we?" The older man teased as he took another grape.

Sitting on this bench with one of his ancestors and eating the finest of fruits in a plaza of such grandeur.

Maybe another heap of mystery wasn't so bad, then.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Aaaaaand chapter 2 is done! :D

So, to recap, Altair is "The First" person Desmond meets in the afterlife. Now, he finds Ezio. In reality, the arrangements of the people Desmond will meet in the afterlife are more on the significance or impact they had than it is chronologically-based. As for what's happening in the Material Realm/living world, well, we'll continue off between Shaun, Rebecca and William. And eventually, Subject 18 (whose identify is painfully left anonymous by Ubisoft. Thanks, guys. Really. *grunts*. So…I'm probably going to have to do some creative OC-making mojo on that…)

Also, I'm sorry to the people who got confused with the past chapters' dialogue. I'm having a hard time keeping track of when I use first person and third person narratives. (Dial-Up Assassin being the former and this one the latter). Gonna have to look into that when my wi-fi gets back. OTL

_Next Update: March 9-16. Again, because of the weekends. _

Also, I'm gonna make polls about any themes I want for future fanfics. Be sure to check them out! And reviews are more than welcome! :D


	4. Just Making Sure Of

**Sidenote:** I almost forgot to thank everyone for your kind words about this fic. QwQ I didn't think my attempt at a non-crack or parodied fanfic would get those, though few.

To feet269: I'm glad you enjoyed the grape bit. It's kind of based on the vineyards old Ezio was tending to at the beginning of the mini movie, "Embers". Also, because Italian vineyards are absolutely beautiful... And open. (One day, we all should go and ask the farmers to let us pick the fruits ourselves, swear to God.)

Also, I'm thinking of putting this up at Archive Of Our Own as well. So if any of you have an account there, just find this fanfic with the same title and a tag that says "because AC3 needs a happier ending", haha.

Okay. Read on!

* * *

**Peace Of Mind**

Sighing, he slouched, looking up to the Florentine sky (assuming that they were sort-of in Florence.). It was just like that first Ezio session: promising of a good life.

"Tell me something."

"Why do you think I'm here, boy?" Ezio replied with a chuckle. Desmond thought he probably sounded repetitive and stupid with his first question, but he didn't intend to. The younger man lowered his head to look back to the old master.

There he eyed the worry and laughter lines, the lip scar he got from when Vieri de' Pazzi threw a rock at him. The old man once again popped another plump grape into his mouth and he himself followed suit.

After consuming the fruit, he turned back to the Italian to inquire. "The Assassin-Templar conflict. The corruptedness of the governments. The First Civilization. And, well...half of you family sabotaged and taken out. You didn't expect all of it, right?"

_Of course he didn't, numb skull._ He insulted himself, but he had to ask. Because...well..

Looking back to the cerulean sky, his lips pursed with reflection. The image of the other man and his older brother speaking of the good life was shamefully ironic.

Because if anything, it didn't go into a 'good life'.

Ezio's reply didn't sound as offended or taken aback as he might have thought."Truth be told, I was already questioning reality before Uberto snitched my father out, causing me to get 'acquainted' with the Brotherhood. But even before that, I had my suspicions of my father...in a good way." He corrected idly. "Those times during super. He skipped them occasionally, probably thinking that I only saw him disappear into more banking paperwork, but my, um, 'gift'," the man described the Eagle Vision with sarcasm, "had allowed me to see his hidden chambers. Sadly, it took me longer than I would like to admit to understand his place..._our_ place... in this conflict."

A hint of sadness and regret lingered. "Things had turned ugly right after that day. So much has happened within my lifespan. Some gaining, some losing. Before Sofia, I almost never got to relax. And here I am." And as if to emphasize, he stood up and he stretched out his arms, allowing Desmond to view his full attire in all its mundane glory.

Once more, Desmond couldn't get himself to get over those embroided and armored robes he was so used to seeing the Master Assassin in.

Again, he sighed before asking again. "But How did you become so...sure...of your decision? You were suddenly hurled into a whole new world beyond your teenage comprehensions. I know it took you long before you agreed to be part of the Brotherhood, but that meant you deliberately gave your life away to their cause. And then, it became your cause."

All the questions he was meaning to ask the man since those months in the Animus came out of the confines of his subconscious. (And when did his vocabulary-wait, when did he start _using_ that word- become so affluent?) So much he wanted to know about the man, even when he had already lived his life. He wanted to know the inbetweens. And the afters.

He shook his head, trying to clear away those questions for layer when he realized that the other man was no longer sitting next to him.

"Oh, boy. More astral weirdness..." Slowly standing up, Desmond's gaze tore around the plaza to find the Mentor. How did that aged man get up and about without him noticing?

Deciding to look about the place, he searched even the haystacks and stalls around the square, but no sight of Ezio still. Finally giving up, he went back to the bench they were sitting. Then he stopped, the sight of the grape basket the other had on the bench top causing him to speculate.

"Ezio? Hey. Ezio!" He started calling out to the air. "The hell did you get at, old man?"

And no, he didn't feel _any _shame upon insulting the man's age.

Just then, something dropped next to his feet. Questioningly looking down, Desmond saw that it was a pair of gloves. His hands, upon reaching down for them, felt metal and leather mixed on the apparel. Then the Italian's trademark snickering could be heard from the direction the gloves had dropped from.

And indeed, he could see the older man perched up on a window sill of the tower from the basillica what's name he dare not bother to remember. Ezio was lingering in his hanging and bobbed his head to urge Desmond to follow suit.

"Well, don't keep me waiting, child! Hurry and catch up with me, eh?", He taunted at the American before quickly making his way up the separate tower.

Indignantly, Desmond put on the gloves before sprinted over the base of the tower. The he picked out his route before grabbing on hold the first ledge. He began following Auditore up the tower.

Said man started speaking back to him as they climbed. "Humans are naturally curious beings, Desmond. That is why I was suspicious of my father. And though I had tried to brush off Uncle Mario's invite to the Brotherhood and the true origins of the conflict, I yearned for answers while taking action to eliminate those who wish me not only death, but darkness." He paused before jumping up, then quickly grabbing hold on an empty brick hole and pulling himself up higher.

"But even when I had some answers, they only gave me more questions. And a further cause to search for them. After Minerva, after paving the way for the Assassins to spread, and even after all the pain and confusion the came I still persisted. It then led me to Constantinople before I found out more about Altair. And you know what?"

Desmond paused in his climbing. It wasn't surprising that he wasn't even tired (not even surprised with Ezio's own ascension), but he kept noticing that the tower...didn't seem right. He could have _sworn_ that he and the other man would have reached the bells right now, but it was like they were still a long way from it.

It took him awhile before realizing that he hadn't replied to Ezio yet, then said, "What do I know?" As he clutched at another ledge, his kind started racing. Of the whole time he had spent reliving the lives of his ancestors, he could probably second guess what they would do in most situations and yet...what would they have thought while they were in those situations, then?

The other man stopped, gazing down on him before saying in the most relieving tone, "For the first time in years, at that moment, I was sure." He waited for Desmond to be right at his side before continuing. "I then knew that there were those who would continue my work. Knew that my time to relax was nigh. And I knew, then and there, that what I did made a difference. Not just for the Auditores. Not just for the Brotherhood. And just for this world. And only then and there, did I let myself be with Sofia, our children, and our vineyards. And even when I thought myself to no longer want to linger. Having been less than active with the conflict, other people, like Shao Jun, reconfirmed to me that there will still be others, not only willing but capable and understanding, to continue on, even when certain hings seem to contradict it."

Sometime between that speech, Ezio looked past him with a warm spark in his eyes. Seeing Desmond's raised brow, the man nodded downward and the younger man followed suit.

He tried to keep his hold firm despite his initiate shock at discovering that the once-empty plaza was now packed with music, lights, and people. Although there were stalls and performers, it didn't look like the usual business of the plaza. But it felt like everyone was having a good time, like the most pleasant festival Desmond could ever witness. And he felt that all who were involved and had known Ezio, whether they were Assassin or Templar, civilian or ruler, young or old, they were all in that plaza.

"Will you look at that...", he repeated Altair's reaction to the portal appearing infront of them earlier before gazing to Ezio, but just as he had turned back, the older man had started climbing again.

As he continued to follow, Desmond had realized something: no matter what the age or situation, Ezio Auditore still had that aura that meant that he was looking forward to the good life, as if Federico was waiting for them both at the top of the tower-

A person could be seen leaning over to look down upon them. Could it be...

"Hey, you two! Hurry up, or you'll miss the big finale!" Federico Auditore, with his spirited mirth, called over to them. Ezio by now had gotten to the top and greeted his ironically younger-looking older brother with an embrace.

Finally, Desmond's gloved hands grasped at the cinnamon roof tiles of the tower. As he started hauling himself up, the two Italians firmly took hold of both his arms to pull him up with ease. When he got his balance, he was still abit shocked at how little the effort he needed was.

"Now, let me ask _you_ something, Desmond?", he heard Ezio speak once more. With a hint of taunting.

The American blinked slightly at that question. He had been the one asking since he got to this place so it took awhile to let it sink in before nodding to allow the inquiry.

With an air of bravado, the Italian leaned over and pulled him close so that they were at eye level with each ither. Pausing, he asked with hinting intimidation, "Do you have faith?"

All the other did at Desmond's confused expression was give out a heart-filled laugh before turning him around to face the plaza. In the midst of the bright landscape, he spotted a haystack at the base of the tower.

And maybe now, he wouldn't mind kicking the Mentore for that pun.

But as he looked back, the older man merely shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant, but this is how you'll be going to The Third."

He rolled his eyes at that. Great, mire enumerated people. They were sending him off again _just _when more people (or souls, he supposed?) started showing up.

"Do I have faith in what?", he asked back in exasperation and urgency. So many cryptic messages. Like he hadn't had enough of those while he was still alive?

Somewhat in reply, both Ezio and Federico motioned for the plank that suddenly had appeared before them. Still keeping his eyes on them, Desmond walked over near the edge of the wood, too familiarized with the Leap of Faith to bother being afraid of their current height.

Finally, with a warm and genuine smile, Ezio firmly asked, "Do you have faith in humanity?"

Now _that _bit made him think for abit. As his mind went to those chronological years with the Assassin team he had, of Lucy, Shaun, Rebecca, and his father. Then it went to all those sessions, witnessing how man had gone throw triumph and downfall in each other's hands as well as to nature itself, but still kept on despite all of the struggle and obstacles.

The human race was an interesting bunch, really.

Positioning himself, he looked down again before turning his head, firmly nodding to the two brothers.

"I never lost it. Thank you, Ezio."

And with that, he leaped forward, the exhilierating feeling still present even when there was no air to pass through his face, hearing the cheers of the people in the square, bidding him a fair and fruitful journey.

Then flipping on his back before he made contact with the hay, the plaza slowly became vague and distant from his senses as the energy beam once again took him into another moment

* * *

**Author's note:** Woot! A chapter that's actually submitted BEFORE my the week was up. Yep, on a roll here! XD

So, yeah. REALLY went far to give Ezio's time with Desmond the ENTIRE chapter. (Then again, he was more involved in the AC fandom than most of the protagonists, so yeah. long and cheesy chapter. OTL)

Also, no Interlude for now. But it's gonna be interesting on the next chapter. (With some spoilers, I guess.)

_Next update: Most likely the end of March or early April. _

Wish me luck!

Reviews and suggestions still welcome. :D


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